


Supernovas on Course

by Bythoseburningembers



Series: Twin Stars [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Casualties of War, Fights, Freedom Fighters, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Multi, Romance, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Veronica is tired of her Captain's shit, everyone is having a bad day, explosive fight, it hurt me to write, they'll be fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bythoseburningembers/pseuds/Bythoseburningembers
Summary: Shiro and Adam discover that they have very different ways of leading and it causes some... problems.“Then you don’t deserve to lead! Takashi, I followed you into space, but I will not follow you into… Whatever this is that you’re becoming!”“Then I’m sorry, but you’re a liability,” Takashi pivoted on a heel. “When this is over, you’re going back to Earth.”
Relationships: Adam & Matt Holt & Shiro, Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Coran & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Twin Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704553
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Nightmares

Adam woke up because he was being choked to death. 

His eyes snapped open, mouth gawping as he struggled to draw in air. Nothing was happening.

His lungs were just _sitting_ there in his chest like trash piles on the roadside. His every muscle was so tense he was practically sitting up, his back arched into an agony that was worse than the burning of his lungs.

Before he realized he wasn’t breathing, he understood that half of that reason could be attributed to how tense he was. With difficulty, he allowed herself to relax, each muscle sinking into the softness of the bed, limp and shaking.

Then, he exhaled.

 _Thank the Ancients,_ he thought suddenly. That was new. Adam had had this dream before- a memory really – and there had been times when he’d broken awake again and been _disappointed_ that he was still here.

The _Thank the Ancients_ thing was different too. He’d only begun saying it because he’d heard it from Coran first.

The instinctive adrenaline coursing through his veins now settled into exhaustion. Adam collapsed back onto the narrow bed. A trickle of sweat itched along the arch of his thighs and back.

Adam glanced at the only light in his room, which happened to be the digital clock on his bed stand. In bold red letters he read the time.

_3: 15 AM._

It was still early. The sun wouldn’t rise on this planet until 6am roughly. Adam sighed and plopped his head back to the soft mattress.

These people had no concept of pillows or blankets, but it was fine. The foamy, soft mattress was doing wonders for his aching back.

Now if only it could solve his PTSD.

Rolling unto his side, Adam scrabbled for the small hand-held tablet he kept by his side at all times. It was a direct link back to the Atlas and more specifically, to Takashi.

Granted, _The Atlas_ was hovering just above the planet, so it wasn’t as if there weren’t other ways to contact them if an emergency arose. Adam could still hear the low bangs of the fire fight happening in space.

Zachorus was a planet of many contradictions. The Capital City of Uöme was still intact. Its people had gone relatively unscathed by the war.

They even had a space mall set up nearby. Adam had explored it just the day before; and been shocked by the sleek civility of it.

Outside the city limits, the vast expanse of fields and forests had been decimated by Galra who had forced the people to grow food for their armies.

The people were starving, disease-ridden. It was Adam’s job to build a hospital/ refugee camp for those fleeing into the city limits searching for a new life.

But there were many in the capital city who had seen the Galran occupation as good for their planet; and were… Unhappy with the forced removal of Galra fractions.

They’d taken to the sky to “defend” their planet from the invading Voltron Coalition. Adam sat up, rubbing his chest as his heart gave another pang of sympathy for the people that he’d seen hobbling into the city, heartbroken, starving, beaten and bruised…

He’d always known that wealth was power, but to see the starkness of it… He’d been appalled. He was still appalled.

Adam tapped the tablet to life. His last correspondence with Takashi was still sitting there from six hours earlier.

**SEN:** Shirogane, Takashi (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Wright, Adam (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 9:54 PM atro]

The Paladins just took off for Olkarion. Hopefully, they can give us some support in this firefight, but until then, we’re on our own. Stay safe down there. Talk to you in the morning. Love you.

Adam smiled, eyes tracing over the last two words repeatedly. It had only been six months since they’d left Earth… Six months since Takashi had swept back into his life like a small hurricane, upending everything in his wake.

Adam had no complaints. Takashi was still, in his core, brave, thoughtful, loving and sweet. He had changed of course. So had Adam. They both had scars and had survived nightmarish days.

Adam glanced down at his prosthetic. He’d lost his arm when the Galra had first invaded Earth and shot his jet out of the sky.

Adam remembered sitting in the cockpit of that ship, injured, bleeding, his entire body a large wound leaking life. He’d felt like he couldn’t breathe then too, as the fire of his engine sucked the air from the cockpit, licking closer to him. Adam shuddered.

The fire had abated.

But he had sat in that cockpit for hours before he was able to escape. Yes. Nightmarish. Hesitating only a moment, Adam typed a new message into the keyboard.

**SEN:** Wright, Adam (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Shirogane, Takashi (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:24 AM atro]

You awake?

He waited, hands clenched around the machine, gnawing his bottom lip. It was possible that Takashi was on the bridge and wouldn’t see the message for hours.

It was possible that he was truly asleep.

Adam’s heart hammered in his chest, seeking a second of connection with someone who wouldn’t judge him for his weakness. Then the screen lit up. **_New Message._**

Adam smashed his thumb into the answer button immediately.

**SEN:** Shirogane, Takashi (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Wright, Adam (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:28 PM atro]

How’d you know?

**SEN:** Wright, Adam (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Shirogane, Takashi (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:31 AM atro]

I can hear the bombs from here. You haven’t sent those losers crying into the fathom of space yet?

**SEN:** Shirogane, Takashi (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Wright, Adam (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:28 PM atro]

Working on it, babe…. Are you ok?

Of course Takashi knew something was up. He was also scarily insightful, especially since returning from a six-year-long space war.

It was like he had telepathic powers or some shit. Adam wondered if it had anything to do with their link to Atlas, or his time in the Void, or if Adam had just gotten worse at hiding his emotions.

He wondered a lot of things these days.

Adam huffed a breath, contemplated his answer. He couldn’t exactly say that he’d stopped breathing while he was asleep. That didn’t… Make sense. It sounded weird. Whatever. So he shrugged and went for the closest equivalent.

**SEN:** Wright, Adam (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Shirogane, Takashi (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:31 AM atro]

Nightmare.

**SEN:** Shirogane, Takashi (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Wright, Adam (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:36 AM atro]

Been there, done that. I wish I could be there with you, or at least stay up with you, but I’m being called back to the bridge. I’ll send these losers packing in no time, and then come down so I can watch you in your element, ok? I know you’re doing great. Love you.

**SEN:** Wright, Adam (169CBX25778)

 **REC:** Shirogane, Takashi (161CA354822).

[Day 56, 3:38 AM atro]

I love you. More than there are stars in every sky.

Adam sighed and tucked the tablet away. He felt a bit lighter, but as soon as he released the tablet, his chest constricted again. As if the thread holding him steady above an abyss suddenly just… Snapped.

Leaving him here, hanging by a limb. He tried to imagine himself tucked against Takashi’s body, warm and encompassed by safety. But the thought only made him aware of how cold he was.

Then, ghost shivers wracked down his spine. Fingers, gone but not forgotten, trailed down his arm with a feather-light touch.

He closed his eyes against the memory, but the body held love as easily as it did pain. He could smell Omar’s breath -a mashing of tubers and those mint leaves he tried to chew – wafting across his face.

See a smooth expanse of dark skin over his own, so close he wasn’t sure where he began, and Omar ended.

Adam had loved two men in his life. One had come back to him. The other was beyond his reach.

They held an equal amount of heartbreak and regret and affection in his heart, and sometimes he wondered if that was his problem. Maybe he loved pain too much, for that was what inevitably came of love, and so was caught in an endless cycle.

 _Maybe,_ he thought _. I’m still there in that cockpit, and this has all been a long dream._

For some reason, that calmed him. His eyes slipped closed, and he dreamt of flames licking at his feet and smoke clouding his eyes, warm and soft as a lullaby.


	2. Morning Emergencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro prepares for transformation... Again.

Shiro felt as if he had lived four lifetimes. The first had been before Kerberos. He had been a dying man then, but at least he’d had hope, the kind born of a hopeless optimist, the kind only someone who was dying could know.

When your clock was ticking down, every act of kindness and every awe-striking second was magnified. That life had been the brightest, despite its worries and obstacles. He had loved and been loved in turn. He had been surrounded by light and loved ones.

Then he was captured by The Galra, and that brightness had been extinguished between one heartbeat and the next. His wonder and happiness in every small thing had turned to bitterness and the savagery begotten of one who lived only to eat the next meal.

Then, he’d been a blank slate, his hurts washed away by a Galran drug and extreme trauma. Yet now he oversaw four inexperienced children in a war that had torn each of them to bits, one skirmish at a time. Then he’d died.

The third life began after he’d been transferred to a new body. It was scarred and dark and scared, like a rabbit shivering in a tiny burrow, trying to keep its long limbs from the cold. His third life was full of… Change. Sudden, life-altering, breath-taking revolution.

He’d come back into a time when The Paladins no longer needed him in the same role. When Earth itself had been pulled into his personal hell. He’d defeated and been defeated in equal measure, then he’d found Adam again…

This life was relatively new. He wasn’t sure what would happen, all he knew was that he felt… Wrung out most days. Like a rag that had been rinsed and squeezed one too many times. Even Adam’s incredible presence was not enough.

In all of his lives, he’d had a mission. He’d had people who looked up to him and depended on him. He’d thrived off that need, but after so many years living for others, he just felt like a ragdoll tossed between bad homes.

Oh. Also. This fourth life had a lot more yelling in it than the previous ones, surprisingly.

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Shiro glanced down at Veronica as she vaulted over the edge of her seat to take her place. The Atlas rattled once again, and they were temporarily blinded by a beam of blinding orange light. Shiro held up a hand, tried to protect his eyes from the searing pain of it. Atlas screamed in the back of his head.

_Hot, hot, hot!_

“Sam, I need you to deploy fire suppressors along our bottom bow!” Shiro yelled into the com-relay. The Galran-supporters were better armed than he would have liked. Atlas was a competitive ship-child, but even he could not withstand such advanced technology and magical attacks at once.

“Got it!” Sam replied quickly.

“What was that thing?” Veronica demanded. She’d been called directly from bed. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, thin straggles of dark brown hair flying into her face. She was still wearing long pink pajama bottoms and a Black T-shirt. Like the rest of them. Curtis was down to his shorts and a torn hoodie, Iverson in a robe. Only Shiro and Coran, after years of getting dressed in a matter of seconds, were in something resembling a uniform.

Coran’s shirt was on backwards though.

“Its Zachorian magic!” Coran tossed over his shoulder, hunched over the basic controls. The ship rattled again. Rizavi seared past them in a flash of Altean speed, twirling in a tight loop that made Shiro’s heart skip a beat. Four Zachorian ships, sleek and pearly in the sun’s light, were close on her tail.

“These guys have magic!? Since when?” Veronica demanded.

“Since we got here, apparently!” Coran hissed.

“Quiet on the bridge!” Shiro commanded, before they could begin bickering. “I need something that can counteract those beams because they keep breaking through our shields! Sam!”

“We’re trying!”

Shiro gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna need better than _try_ ,” he switched screens from the engineer’s room. How long had they been at this? He’d been in bed not ten minutes ago having a conversation with Adam and now they were surrounded?

 _I don’t understand why this always happens to me,_ he thought. Then again, he did. This was what he was good at, mission-hopping, universe-saving, battle-waging. Command. It was the one linking yoke between all four of his lives. “MFE’s, how are you doing out there?”

“We’re outnumbered, sir,” Griffin gasped as they sustained another blast against the left-wing of the particle barrier. Atlas groaned in the back of his head. It wouldn’t hold for long. “A new fleet of these ships just… Ugh! Came out of nowhere!”

“Ok, your job is to keep them busy,” he jabbed at Atlas’s near infinite power. The ship responded with a low keen in the back of his head, like a puppy who had been locked outside. “Evade and distract. Do _not_ take any unnecessary risks.”

“Yes sir.”

Shiro had never believed he would get so tired of hearing yes, sir. He squinted out of the windows. _Captain, I’m tired,_ Atlas whined.

 _Hold on just a little longer, Atlas,_ he thought back, absently.

“Captain, we need back-up!” Iverson shouted.

Shiro shook his head. He _wished_ they could just summon back-up on a whim, but unfortunately the Voltron Coalition was spread out across the galaxy, each picking a different target, on separate missions. “Negative! The Paladins mission to Olkarion is too important! The Blades and Rebels are out of reach. We’re on our own!”

“That’s just _great,”_ Coran muttered.

Shiro agreed but he couldn’t say so right now. He was Captain and he was _good_ at this by now.

“Atlas Crew!” He bellowed into the overhead comms. “Prepare for transformation!”


	3. Fake it till you make it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven League comes across some bureaucratic problems. Romelle tries to help Adam.

Romelle liked to believe that she was a sympathetic person. She loved to make friends and spend time with others, so it only made sense that she should have a sense of sympathy.

Yet she couldn’t seem to sympathize with these people. Maybe it was because they’d just… Given up on each other. Even when Romelle had left with Keith and Krolia from her colony, she had never given up on them. She still hadn’t given up on her people. It was so far from the scope of her initial reactions that it seemed sacrilege.

“I don’t see how you’re going to fit over thirteen hundred people into this tiny space, Captain Adam,” Zachiro worried, leaning over the blueprints they had drafted. Then again, Zachiro was from the Capital. A skilled architect, he nevertheless somehow found problems with all their plans. His portly belly rumbled, and he rubbed it absently, tsking beneath his breath. Romelle wanted to hit him.

Adam, as usual, remained perfectly serene.

Romelle admired that about him. Adam could feign composure in almost any situation. The only times she’d seen him lose it had to do with Shiro. “We don’t have much of a choice, Zachiro,” he pointed out. “We _have_ to start building a camp here, especially since the Capital has closed its gates to any more refugees in the meantime.”

“If we were able to dig underground, we could house more people that way,” Axca piped in from the shadows. She was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the back of Zachiro’s neck. At first glance, she was perfectly calm, but Romelle had spent enough time with her to know that Axca could easily slaughter them all in the blink of an eye.

Romelle blinked. Wondered what Zachiro would look like at the end of a blade. Wondered when she had become so prone to violence. _It’s probably Keith’s fault,_ she figured. 

“It’s just not possible,” Zachiro shook his head.

“Why not?” Colleen asked.

“The Capital is worried that the refugees may begin tunneling under the city gates and sneak in that way,” Zachiro shrugged, as if this were a perfectly reasonable excuse for letting hundreds of innocent people starve or die of exposure out in the elements.

Romelle and Matt exchanged an irritated glance. “No one will have need to tunnel into the Capital if we are given the proper supplies to build a satisfactory base,” Adam drawled.

Zachiro heaved a sigh, as if _they_ were the ones being purposefully difficult. “We can’t do that,” Romelle bit the inside of her cheek. According to the teachings Allura and Coran had given her about diplomacy, the fact that the Zachorians had given their team a place to discuss was progress.

It didn’t feel like it. They were in a monstrously fancy meeting room, had been given food and drink so luxurious Romelle’s tongue still buzzed from it, and all that had come of the trip was the Zachorians plying them with things while simultaneously telling them _no._

 _It’s almost as if they want something else from us,_ Romelle thought, suspiciously. _Why go to all this trouble if they aren’t even going to help us?_

She had no answers. Allura was better at this.

“The Capital seems reasonably wealthy. Wealthy enough to afford to care for the remainder of its citizens,” Matt argued bitterly. “If you don’t give us the resources, we’ll find a different way. But we need to start construction now!”

Zachiro crossed his arms, which were colored like the raspberry Earth yogurt Lance had let her try once. Freckled with tiny black spots. He looked like a giant strawberry this way. Romelle might have giggled at the image if she didn’t hate his guts at the moment. “If you’re so determined, why am I here?” He challenged.

“We’ve been wondering that too,” Axca muttered. Adam’s answer thankfully drowned out her snark.

“We’d like to have The Capital’s cooperation in this, but it isn’t necessary. Can you relay that message to your superiors?” Zachiro’s nose flared, obviously piqued at being referenced as an underling, but he snatched his own plans -which would have ben able to house maybe sixty people - with a flourish.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he sniffed, storming out of the meeting room. They all watched him go. Romelle scowled when he slammed the door after him. 

“We’d be grateful,” Adam drawled sarcastically, in the echoing silence of the room. Matt narrowed his eyes at the closed door.

“I just want to clarify that he’s a jerk, right? Everyone else thinks so too?”

“We all saw it, Matt,” Colleen stepped up. She was holding a pot with a small fern in her arms, one of the many plants she contemplated could be useful in such dense soil. “Question is, what’s our plan? We don’t have the full resources needed to do this on our own,” she looked up, pointedly, as the sky shook again. “Also, The Atlas is a little busy right now.”

Adam rubbed his chin, nodding. “I reached out to one of Hunk’s friends, Shay. She’s on a Balmera and she’s offered to send us some more materials if needed,” Romelle clapped her hands with a quiet squeal. She loved Shay. Adam squeezed her shoulder. “Still, you’re right Colleen, it won’t be enough.”

“So what’s our plan?”

“I don’t know, Romelle,” she scowled. Adam seemed to say that more and more these days. Granted, she was of the opinion that he never knew what he was doing and was just “ _faking it till he made it,”_ as Hunk would say. But he usually at least tried to sound in control. “I’ll think of something. In the meantime, we try to make as many people as comfortable as possible.”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Adam, I hate to say this, but we might have ta establish an application system. Give those who are most a’risk a place and turn the others away.”

“That would get help to the ones in most desperate need first,” Axca contemplated. “It might be our only solution.”

Adam inhaled a sharp breath, eyes widening. “No!” He snapped. Elijah only blinked in that slow way of his. Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. “No, I won’t pick and choose who gets to live or die. We just need an idea _out of the box_ is all,” he finished, calmer.

“I’ll reach out to some Rebel contacts. See what they can offer,” Matt volunteered, already tapping away at his wrist gauntlet.

“I can give Irva a call. Maybe she can help ta brainstorm,” Elijah suggested. Adam gave a resolute nod.

“Do it.”

The others filed out of the room to begin separate work. Romelle stayed. Over the past six months, the bond between she and Adam had only grown, their friendship solidifying into something stronger. He was like a brother to her now, a very tenacious and stupid brother, but one all the same. She felt she had been given a second chance in him, one already stolen when… Romelle tugged at her ponytail. “You didn’t sleep last night,” she observed.

Adam turned with a wan smile. “Am I so obvious?”

“You usually don’t snap,” she replied. She leaned against the table. “We’re going to find a way to save people, Adam… I’m just afraid we won’t be able to save them all in time.”

His eyes gleamed. “We need to try.”

“Of course,” she retied her ponytail. “Why did the Capital invite us here if they were only going to tell us how impossible it is to save the farmers?” She asked. Adam shrugged, watching the door as if waiting for someone to come through.

“I don’t know. I would ask Coran what he knows about this planet except I imagine he’s got his hands full as it is,” Romelle snorted a laugh.

“Knowing Coran, he wouldn’t know anything except ten-thousand-year-old history.” Which he would then blabber on about for a good twenty minutes, divulging nothing but some semi-useless but highly amusing stories about King Alfor.

Adam chuckled. “That does seem to be a reoccurring problem with him,” Romelle studied his face. His new glasses were black around the edges, but they gleamed orange where they caught a sunray.

“Are you worried about Shiro?” She asked. Adam gave a start and turned back to her, as if he had forgotten her presence.

“He can take care of himself.”

Oh. That was weird. Whenever there was a problem, it usually had to do with Shiro. Romelle cocked her head. “Then why couldn’t you sleep?” Adam was silent for a long moment.

“I kept thinking about my husband,” he tapped on the inside of his arm where letters were scrawled. “The name on my wrist.” Romelle’s jaw dropped. She had assumed the name was important, but not a different husband. She scowled.

“You were married?”

Adam nodded, averted his gaze as if he had just admitted to having four heads. “He died.”

“I’m sorry. May I…” Romelle cringed, terrified that she may overstep her bounds, but Adam looked so pained. She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “What happened to him?” It was obviously troubling Adam.

He sighed. “I made a decision about who got to live or die,” Romelle opened her mouth to demand just what _that_ meant, but Adam was already turning away. His expression was now a locked steel door, biting away years of torment. “C’mon. We have work to do.”


	4. Burdened Minds Think Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro makes a hard call under the pressure of a hard man. Adam does likewise. Somehow in a war against tyranny, they end up enemies.

The sixth hour of their battle, Sam pulled Shiro away from command to run an idea past him. They stood in the quiet hallway just outside the bridge’s doors. Sam was sipping from a re-heated cup of coffee.

His eyes, behind the glasses, were shot and puffy with exhaustion. Shiro felt his own pupils itch in response. “Shiro, I think I know a way to fortify our shields and armaments to handle this Zarkorus magic.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day,” there was a collective shout from the other side of the door from his sleepless bridge crew. He and Sam stilled, listening for any other noises of alarm. When none came, Shiro waved his hand, indicating for Sam to continue. “I’m all ears.”

“When I was creating the particle barrier, I had to use an alternate fuel source, separate from the crystal,” he stuffed his hand into his pocket and produced a compact diamond, no larger than the palm of his hand. Shiro took it, twisted it slowly in the light. “It’s this.”

“What exactly _is_ it?” So far as he could tell, it was just a metal box.

Sam must have been especially exhausted, because he didn’t automatically break into a convoluted explanation of its every detail. “It’s difficult to explain, but essentially it runs off heat. Surplus heat from the engines is funneled through our specialized vents and used to create kinetic energy, which then powers the shields.”

Sounded simple enough. They had dozens of chemical engineers on board. “So, what do you need?”

“Right now, the kinetic energy created is relatively low, _despite_ the hugeness of the engines,” he added, when he saw the furrow in Shiro’s brow. “The engines are so advanced they don’t create a lot of surplus heat. So, we need an external heat source. I think I know of such a machine, but it’s on Earth.”

 _Oh great_.

Shiro stiffened. Sighed. “Of course it is.”

Sam cringed. He had dealt with the Garrison long enough to understand Shiro’s exasperation. “I don’t suppose The Garrison has gotten over the last shipment of refugees we sent them from Honju, have they?”

He shrugged. “I only get reminded of it every _other_ status report, so I guess they’ve forgiven me a little,” his paltry effort at a joke didn’t seem to register to Sam. He was at that point in sleeplessness when nuance was lost on him.

“Earth will soon get used to sharing a planet with alien species. It will take some time,” he said, with such surety that Shiro could only nod.

“In the meantime, I’m not the Garrison’s favorite right now.”

“I’ll gladly sit in on the call, if you need someone to explain the details,” he hesitated. Sam looked more like he could use some sleep. It wouldn’t hurt for him either. Yet he knew that banishing the older man to do just that would only result in Sam burying himself in the lab for hours on end. Shiro knew this because he’d seen Pidge do it multiple times.

Besides, Shiro could use the company, and moral back-up. He knew it would make no difference though. He waved two fingers, gesturing for Sam to follow. “Only if you prepare yourself.”

...

“Let me get this straight.” Shiro resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Beside him, Sam frowned. Iverson, Veronica and Coran, flanking them on either side, stiffened. “You want _us_ to send you a power source capable of strengthening your particle barriers, when we could also use it to power our own stations down here?”

Veronica’s voice danced the edge of bored and exasperated “Do _you_ use it for that purpose?” She inquired. General Steward, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, squinted at her, as if trying to decide whether her tone had been disrespectful or not. Eventually, he must have determined that it didn’t matter. He drew himself up obstinately. His chest, emboldened with medals and trophies of service, fluttered with his wheezing coughs.

“No, we don’t need it now. But we _could_ ,” he puffed. From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw Iverson’s one good eye twitch. Working directly with the government was always a hassle.

“I don’t understand,” Coran admitted bluntly. Shiro understood all too well. He tapped a finger against his cheek.

“General Steward, what exactly will it take for you to send us that equipment?” he asked, since this was obviously going somewhere.

The General narrowed his eyes at them from behind wide, round glasses. The wrinkles around his eyes and drooping from his chin wiggled as he hummed contemplatively. “I’m not sure I _like_ this mission of yours,” he speculated.

“Good thing you don’t plan, dictate or decide our missions then, isn’t it?” Iverson inquired, with hardened courtesy.

“True, but if you’ll allow me to make a polite suggestion, Captain Shirogane?” Stewart arched an eyebrow directly at him, as if he had a choice in the matter.

“Yes?”

“I’ve fought many wars in my day. While none of them have been in space,” _Thank goodness_ , Shiro thought vehemently. _He’d be worse than Zarkon._ “My experience is that sometimes you have to lose a little to gain a lot more.”

Shiro slammed his folded hands down on the table a bit harder than necessary. General Steward, he had noticed, responded well to _forcefulness_. “General, we _are_ actually in the middle of battle, so if you could…”

“Our scanners indicate that _The Atlas_ is orbiting on the Westward patch of the planet’s atmosphere,” Steward interrupted, curtly. Shiro nodded.

“Yes, so we can protect the settlement being built below.”

“Let them have it.”

Shiro blinked a few times. It took him a solid two minutes to discern what Steward was suggesting, and by that time, Iverson had already started speaking. “You’re insinuating that we allow these… These Galran sympathizers to _destroy_ the settlement? Why?”

“For two reasons,” he ticked them off on his hands. “Updated details from Captain Adam’s resettlement… _Activities,”_ oh yeah, they weren’t happy about that either. “Indicate that The Capital is being difficult about aiding in the construction, which we need them to be less difficult. I’m not wasting more of Earth’s precious resources on a pity project.”

Veronica drew herself up, shoulders locked into defensive position. “It is not a…!”

“Lieutenant McClain,” Shiro warned, because he had made this exact argument multiple times and so far, it had produced nothing but lectures. But he was a Captain. Veronica could be punished for speaking out of turn. Veronica’s eyes flashed, but she nodded apology.

“I didn’t know you read those reports,” Sam said, unsurely. _I wish he didn’t_ , Shiro thought.

General Stewart smiled slyly. His deep blue eyes twinkled at them, like sunlight winking off the sea’s surface. “What better way to bring a people together than give them a common enemy?” He asked, with pretend kindness. Shiro leaned back in his seat, arms crossed.

“You want to force The Capital’s hand,” he summarized.

“Yes. You’re spending too much time there when you _should_ be destroying the rest of the Galran enemy so that we can have our ship back. The Atlas is too powerful, too useful, to be spending all its time masquerading around space _outside_ of Earth’s interests,” Shiro’s jaw clenched.

He knew that many people on Earth held the same beliefs, thought that once Earth was liberated, The Atlas should only operate to serve _them_. “The second reason is this. The ships we have available to deliver this large of technology to you are not able to reach that far. You’ll need to move further from the planet to pick it up.”

Sam spluttered indignantly. “I built _plenty_ of ships capable of…”

“The only ships I’m willing to make available to you,” the general clarified.

“Ah,” Sam breathed. Shiro shrugged when he glanced at him. _See what I have to deal with?_

“So, the only way you’ll send the equipment we need to free this planet is if we sacrifice several hundred lives to grab the equipment because you don’t want to send it a better way?” He summarized. He only kept the ire from his voice with extreme self-control and patience. Having been trapped in an Infinite Void for months gave one… Perspective on delicate situations.

Stewart winked. “You’re a talented mind, Shirogane. I’ve always said it,” Shiro remembered specifically hearing rumors that general Stewart called him many things in private, but talented was not one of them. That was fine. Shiro called him a complete warmongering asshole in his spare time.

He sighed. “Have it your way, general,” he said. General Stewart brightened, saluted with a last haggard cough, and relinquished the signal back to the main Garrison controller. Sergeant Xavier, who had been the one to route the call, appeared on screen with an apologetic wince.

“I’m so sorry Captain Shirogane. I wish he didn’t have to be in this call, but its new protocol…” She began, as she did every time Shiro ended a conversation with Stewart. He spared her a smile.

“I understand sergeant. Thank you for your time.”

Her picture blanked out. Shiro rubbed two fingers against his Temples as almost immediately, his crew began their argument.

“Shiro, we can’t just… _Sacrifice_ these people like this!” Coran cried. “We need to find a better way.”

“Maybe I don’t need those Earth supplies. Slav and I could try using what we have,” Sam volunteered faintly.

“No disrespect, Commander Holt, but we can all see you haven’t slept in like, three months. I doubt even _you_ can come up with anything before we’re driven out of the sky by the Zarkorians. We could send the MFE’s out to protect them,” Veronica suggested.

“The longer we engage in this battle, the more people die _elsewhere._ I hate to say it, but the general has a point,” Iverson squinted down at his fists. “Our hands are tied.”

He hadn’t spoken yet. Coran eyed him warily. “Shiro?”

He stood with hands flush against the hard metal. That was how he felt, unmovable, unyielding, unfeeling. “Contact Haven Squad. I want them back on this ship within the hour but _after_ they warn the Capital what’s coming. Let’s give them some time to set up any protective measures they can scrounge up. Then scramble the MFE’s for damage control. We’re going to follow the General’s suggestion,” Coran’s expression fell. Veronica looked shocked. Sam’s shoulders slumped. Iverson rubbed the back of his neck.

“ _Shiro,”_ Coran breathed. Shiro could not allow himself to cave beneath Coran’s horror. He met his eyes squarely.

“Do I make myself clear?” He demanded.

Silence. Veronica stood, gently tugged Coran away. Iverson followed a moment later, all of them headed to the bridge. Only Sam remained. Shiro buried his face in his hands, allowing some of his own conflicted self-loathing have its way with him.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “This isn’t totally on you, Shiro.”

“I know Sam.”

“Well, I don’t mean to dump all of this on you now, but there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. I…” Sam cleared his throat nervously. “Well, there’s no great way to say this, but I found a therapist. On Earth. She specializes in… Odd cases. Cases like mine.”

At last, some good news. Shiro raised his head to give his old mentor a small but sincere smile. Sam returned it, a bit shyly. “That’s great Sam. Has she been helping?”

“Very. I know lately I haven’t been showing it, but I can actually get to sleep once more, which brings me around to… I think you should consider seeing her too.”

He should have seen this coming. Shiro looked away, a lurch of alarm making his stomach drop. “Sam…” 

“I know, I know!” Sam squeezed his shoulder tight. “You’re busy, and what you’ve been through… Is hard to explain to anyone else in the world! I’ve already had this argument with Katie.”

“Does Pidge need therapy?” Shiro asked, startled by his own ignorance. He hadn’t even thought of it. Sam patted his cheek lightly.

“ _Focus,_ Shiro. It’s just that… Eventually, this is all going to take a toll. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it _will_ start tearing you apart even more than it does. You need to talk about it with someone who has training in how to help you through it.”

“You know there’s a shipboard therapist,” he pointed out, already scheming ways to convince the other Paladins to start their own mental unpacking. He might have to trick Keith into it.

“Could you really open up to someone you also have command over?” Sam snorted.

Shiro drew his shoulders back defensively. “I do with Adam!”

“Do you now?” Sam inquired, arching a brow. His gaze was knowing. It said _I know there are secrets you keep locked inside even from yourself, and I know what those are._ Shiro flushed and looked away in shame. 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled. Sam released a sigh of relief, and Shiro couldn’t help but feel flattered at his care.

“That’s all I ask.”

* * *

_For some reason he was sitting in the smoking remains of his ship, listening to his own voice on the sparking radio. “Omar, hold on! I’m sending back-up!”_

_“Negative!” Omar snapped back. It was like listening to a radio show, but it sent shivers of agony through his body because Adam knew how that show ended. There were screams in the background, crackling between the radio fritzing. “Adam, you send anyone else out here, and they’re dead!”_

_“I’m not leaving you to die!” He mouthed the words, glanced out of the crushed window. Flames licked up, trying to devour him._

_“I know what I signed up for, sweetheart. This is the only way. Let me go.”_

A sudden pressure on his arm made him tense. Adam instinctively lashed out, his prosthetic swinging in a wild, half-conscious punch. Thankfully it was Axca who caught his fist a few inches from her face. She peered at him over his knuckles with puckered lips and furrowed brows. Romelle peeked out from behind the Galran’s shoulder. “Adam?” She whispered.

His heart skipped four beats. “Axca! Sorry,” he quickly lowered his arm and took several calming breaths. “What’s up?” The two women stared at him for a long second. Axca with suspicion. Romelle with concern. He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Axca hummed, with palpable disbelief. Adam resisted the urge to blush. Axca was a warrior in her own right. He knew that she spaced out sometimes too, which was probably why she didn’t say anything. “Matt got a communication from _The Atlas_. You should be there.” It was phrased more as a command than a suggestion. Adam swiped a hand across his forehead. His sleeve came away damp.

He pushed aside the blueprints for the camp he had been working on and followed them out of his tiny tent. The injured and starving refugees crowded the camp around them, murmuring and crying out. Adam flinched from the sounds of suffering. He needed to find a way to convince The Capital to let these people inside, otherwise more and more would die by the day.

Romelle bumped his shoulder with her own. “Are you ok?”

He nodded “Yeah, don’t worry,” the ground shook slightly. The crying and wailing grew louder. Adam glared at the cloud-strewn sky. “The bombing is getting closer.”

A stocky body pushed his way through the crowd to their side, huffing. “I’m thinkin that’s what this call is about,” he announced when Axca tugged him between two arguing vendors with a dangerous look.

“Elijah?” He asked, surprised to see the other man. The other man waved his intergalactic phone (courtesy of Pidge) in one hand pointedly.

“Got off the phone with Irva… Y’know she works in the national government now… Said she saw General Stewart this morning, struttin round like a rooster,” Adam rolled his eyes. He got enough correspondences about a certain General Stewart from Takashi to know that this was hardly good news.

That’s when they heard the shouting. “No, that doesn’t make it _better_!” It was coming from the makeshift communications tent that Matt had set up. Riling Matt was a feat.

Adam sprinted forward, shoved the heavy curtain aside. Matt was leaning over his holo-pad, Colleen an indignant presence over his shoulder.

“Matt?” Romelle asked.

“Yeah, but that’s still not…” Matt looked up at his mother’s prodding. Gasped when he saw them, quickly beckoning with a come closer finger. “Adam! We’re being ordered back to the ship!” He cried as he fairly shoved the pad into Adam’s hands. Iverson’s face was on the other end, face scrunched in apparent irritation.

“Wright, thank the Ancients,” Iverson grouched when he saw him. This was not a standard greeting for Iverson. Adam’s chest constricted.

“What’s happening?”

“New orders from The Captain. You and your team need to head back to Atlas within the hour. Quick as you can. Let the Capital know that an attack is imminent,” Iverson reported succinctly. Heart thundering, Adam nearly toppled from his chair, waving a hand at Colleen. _Do it,_ he mouthed. He turned back to Iverson.

“What’s going on? Have the rebels broken through your lines?” He demanded.

“Oh no, _here’s_ the good part,” Matt growled.

“Well,” Iverson said at the same time. “Not exactly…”

Why couldn’t Adam get a _break?_ “Iverson….”

“It’s complicated, but we have a way to save the planet _and_ get the Capital to help rebuild a larger refugee camp.”

“Uncomplicate it for me,” he requested patiently. Iverson set his jaw unhappily, but that wasn’t anything to worry about. In Adam’s experience, Iverson was often on the defensive or angered. 

“In order to save the planet, we need a piece of equipment from Earth that we can only get if we…Move the ship, Just a little.”

“If you move the ship, the people down here will be vulnerable, and the rebels _will_ attack the refugees waiting for Asylum in the Capital. _And_ the Capital,” Matt snapped. Adam crossed his arms when Iverson glanced away guiltily. Anger burbled in his gut.

Outside, a baby wailed.

“Which is your plan. To reduce half the Capital to rubble so they’ll have to build a refugee camp because they then will need it,” he guessed. Iverson’s eyes snapped up, but Adam had seen the moment of doubt on his face.

“No! You’re supposed to warn them!”

“You think an hour head start is going to save anyone? Especially the refugees outside the Capital?! It’ll be a bloodbath!” Adam demanded. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Takashi? This _couldn’t_ have been his idea.”

“It wasn’t!” Iverson agreed vehemently. “His hands are tied. Believe me, if there were another way, the Captain would do it, but there isn’t, so you all need to come back to the ship for your own safety,” Adam narrowed his eyes at his old commander. This answer was expected, but also gave no indication of how this order had come about. He knew that Iverson would never issue a fake command on Takashi’s behalf, and this kind of issue would need to filter from _the top._

What was Kashi thinking?

 _I know what he’s thinking,_ Adam contemplated, skin flushing with rage. _He’s thinking that it’s better to sacrifice a few rather than the whole_. Adam knew that mentality. He had also been the few that would have been sacrificed. He had been one of those refugees scraping at the corners of a rich city.

He would not leave them behind.

Evidently, he was not the only one who believed this. “Only if we get to evacuate the people to the ship with us,” Romelle stepped up, shoulders squared. Iverson growled in frustration.

“We don’t have time for…!” His gaze snapped from them to something ahead of him. His face was temporarily bathed in blinding light. He shielded his eyes and looked away. “Oh great, they’re _back,”_ he cried.

Adam’s gut clenched. Hard. “What was that?”

“Did you guys already move?” Matt added.

“No, we’re _being_ moved!” Iverson rubbed his chin. “We can use this to our advantage. You need to evacuate now!”

Elijah jammed his hands into his pockets, made a gnawing motion with his back teeth in that thoughtful way of his. “Adam?” He asked quietly. Adam did not have to look over his shoulder to know what he would find. He and Elijah had fought together in many wars like this one. He tipped his chin.

“I’m not leaving.”

Elijah smiled. Colleen exhaled a breath of relief. Romelle inhaled a sharp breath. Iverson blanched. “What?!”

“I’m not going to abandon these people to die.”

“Neither am I!” Matt agreed passionately.

“None of us are,” Romelle added. Seeing Iverson’s face, she quickly shrank back. “Sorry.”

“You need to get on this ship now! That is an _order_!”

Adam gave a two-fingered salute and jaunty smile. “Remind Takashi that I don’t follow his orders, will ya, serge?”

“Wright, if you don’t…!”

“Bye,” he flicked the transmission off before Iverson could relive their Garrison days and remind Adam just what he thought about his obedience skills. He swiveled in his chair and let out an explosive sigh.

“Adam, there will be repercussions for this,” Axca reminded him, monotone. If she feared these repercussions he couldn’t tell. He shrugged.

“Nothing I can’t live with. I’ve never taken orders well anyway,” he softened when he noticed Romelle fidgeting and Colleen bite her bottom lip nervously. “None of you have to stay here with me. I’d understand if…”

“You’re our Captain, Adam,” Axca interrupted. “Where you are, we are.”

“We’re not leaving here without ya, boy,” Elijah informed him.

Romelle and Coleen nodded, though their uncertain expressions did not waver. Adam decided that it was good enough. He handed Matt his tablet back and started out of the tent toward the golden gates in the distance.

“Well then, we need to warn the Capital. A fight is on its way,” he called over his shoulder, as the wind howled in the distance and the stars shook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... A tree fell on my house. That's why this has taken me so long to update. I'm ok, but this whole mess has been... Draining.


	5. Everything is... Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica needs a vacation. Shiro leaps into battle.

_These Zachorians are putting up a bigger fight than I think is strictly necessary_ , Veronica observed with clinical irritation, the emotion just barely skimming the surface of her psyche.

She checked Atlas’s readings. The particle barrier would take maybe two more hits? Yep. Two more. That was great.

“Iverson, what is Haven League’s ETA?” The Captain asked as Veronica made a conscious decision not to scream. 

Commander Iverson was many things, but Veronica had never seen him so… Petrified than in that moment. His expression went from completely focused to horrified in a second as he slowly swiveled in his seat.

“Um… So about that…” he scratched the back of his neck, the next sentence coming out so quickly Veronica almost didn’t catch it. “There’s a problem.”

The bridge was a place of controlled chaos. Still, Iverson’s words cut through everyone’s pure bubble of concentration. You could have heard a pin drop. All eyes slowly swiveled to their Captain.

As always, he was completely calm. He didn’t raise his voice or even look perturbed. “What?” He asked.

Iverson gulped. “Um, well, you see, its complicated.” Veronica perked up, listening.

“Uncomplicate it for me, Iverson,” Shiro ordered sharply.

“Captain Wright refused to leave, and the others are staying with him!” He finally blurted. Veronica’s heart skipped a beat. _Damn it, Axca, what are you doing?_

It wasn’t like her not to follow a direct order. As for Adam though… Veronica had to admit she had seen that coming from _a mile_ away, but Captain Shirogane’s expression warped from serenity to open confusion quickly. “Did you explain the situation?” He asked.

A nod. “He won’t leave the refugees to die.”

For a second, Veronica thought maybe Shiro would consider this in a mature and reasonable manner.

He would nod and suggest an alternate to General Steward’s stupid ultimatum. She should have known better. Love and duty together never made for maturity or reasoned situations.

After that second ended, his face bled maroon and his eyes flashed dangerously.

She turned back to her console as an alarm started blinking red. “I am going to… I do _not_ have time for this!” Shiro yelled. Another surge of Zachorian ships flew past. The particle barrier exploded as pinkish bombs shook the ship. They didn’t exactly have much time before it gave out completely. 

“Captain, what do we do?” She heard Curtis call, and couldn’t he give the Captain a damn minute? He was obviously going through a thing here.

“For the sake of…Pull away.”

Coran straightened in his seat. “Shiro….” He began, but Shiro wasn’t listening. He had already patched himself into the hangar bay, where Griffin and his team waited for instructions.

“MFE’s, I want you and your team to lock onto Captain Wright’s bio-signature and provide cover for his team _and_ the Capital,” she couldn’t help the sigh of relief that broke past her lips. Iverson glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Thankfully, this _once,_ he minded his own business.

“Not gonna be easy, but we’re on it, Captain,” Griffin warned.

Shiro’s jaw clenched so hard Veronica’s teeth ached in sympathy. “I understand,” he stepped down from the Captain’s Nest. “Coran, the bridge is yours. Get that extra equipment on board _now_ and have Sam install it ASAP.” Coran craned his neck.

“Where are you going?” He called, with no more alarm than if he were asking after the weather. Shiro didn’t halt in his determined stride as he made his way toward the doors.

“I am going to collect my idiot co-Captain before he gets himself and his crew _killed,”_ he hissed. This, in Veronica’s mind, did not strike as a great plan. She appreciated the intent and enthusiasm, but the sky was currently filled with ships flinging bombs at the ground.

“Are you sure… That’s the best course of action?” Curtis ventured cautiously, reading her mind aloud. Shiro scoffed.

“No, I am sure it is _not,_ but my stupid boyfriend isn’t giving me much of a choice!” The doors, scientifically, were unable to slam, but with that last pronouncement, everyone on the bridge cringed as if he had just broken the hinges.

“Ah, young love,” Coran murmured, with a rueful smile. 

“Should we, er, stop him?” Veronica asked.

Coran barked a laugh. “Ha ha! Stop him? Stop _Shiro,_ former Black Paladin, a man who came back from the dead, the man who infiltrated Sendak’s ship only to find himself on top of it as it fell out of orbit?” he turned back to the battle, waved a hand. “Good luck.”

“Best just to let things play out,” Iverson suggested. “I’m sure it’ll all turn out fine.”

“Yeah.” Veronica agreed, without any semblance of believing it. “I’m sure it will.”

* * *

Everything was _not_ turning out fine.

The Atlas was _supposed_ to be a guardian angel, a protective sentinel shadowing from above. That was its purpose. It stood for the Rebels, the challengers. It was supposed to represent people like the refugees they’d just abandoned.

But no. Instead, the sky was flooded with sleek, conch-shaped ships. Bright orange and red, they were too easy to spot from the ground. But too fast to track by land.

They stayed just beyond the wispy clouds, dipping in and out like wild fish in a stream.

From the underbellies, bombs dropped every few minutes in a steady, methodical rhythm. The Capital, bombarded by the attacks, was anything _but_ steady or methodical.

The civilians cowered in their homes and bunkers. Adam had just barely convinced The Capital to allow the refugees to take shelter _inside_ the outer walls.

Still, they were forbidden from stepping foot in the city, so they huddled like scared chicks near the crumpling outer wall. The hundreds of them huddled in groups, shivering.

Volunteers and medical officers, supervised by Romelle and Colleen, dashed between groups trying to give out food, blankets and water while the ground crumpled beneath them.

As if this weren’t all complicated enough, the Capital was a wealthy state of politicians and artisans. It was hardly a military base, and though the wall was fortified by solid sheets of unbreakable metal, it could not last forever.

On the wall, Adam ducked inside the bomb dome and tucked his gun close to his chest. “INCOMING!”

“Everyone get down!” Matt, Elijah and the couple dozen fighters who’d arrived dove for the ground. Ash and debris from the flames licking the ground beyond the wall were suffocating. The smoke burned his lungs.

“Axca, how are those bombs coming?” Adam yelled past a haggard cough. Her bomb-making skills had yet to prove unnecessary. As if she had been waiting, Axca dared craned herself out from behind the bomb shelter adjacent to him.

The ground between them exploded as a bomb eradicated the ground, sent shards of rock and metal flying. Adam ducked again and by the time he opened his eyes, Axca was skidding to a halt beside him. She held out two metal circles, big enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

“Ready!” Adam scooped one in his grip and tossed it over to Matt, very carefully. He was taking cover behind another bomb dome a few feet away, but still managed to catch the bombs.

It occurred to Adam that they had too much practice doing this. He plugged them into the arm-cannon and took up aim, one eye clenched shut. 

Adam crouched and clapped hands over his ears. He’d learned the hard way that he had sensitive ears. It was a boon in some situations, but not now.

Now, if he didn’t cover his ears, he would be deaf for days to come. Nevertheless, he still heard the harsh bellow of the bomb as it was rocketed at an incoming ship. The sky rumbled as it was hit and immediately crashed to the ground.

Adam peeked around the corner. “Keep it up!” He called, tossing the second bomb. Axca, swift as the wind, stood, and dashed back to her station to make more bombs.

Adam’s blaster wasn’t enough to do any significant damage to the ships. They were too high up. Still, the burst of light and noise were good for distractions.

The Zachorians were low on weapons or artillery, but they’d stockpiled the little they had on the wall.

They looked like the pictures of cannons Adam had seen from the eighteenth century. Larger, and with a kick that sent shivers through the ground at each fire at the enemy ships, but close enough.

Adam gritted his teeth as one of the bombs sailed low, nicked the outer wall. It crumpled to the ground with a low groan. It was earsplitting, but somehow Romelle was panting so loud he didn’t need to turn to see her approach from behind. “How are we doin?” He asked, without ceasing his activities.

“There’s a ship coming in from our flank!” Romelle gasped. Adam’s stomach lurched. So far, the ships had been attacking them in a steady and predictable rhythm.

Obviously, they didn’t believe the Capital fortified enough for a real strategy. “Look!” Romelle stuffed her binoculars into his hands.

Adam swiveled and scanned the skies. The air was dusky with smoke and ash, but he just made out another ship hurtling right toward them. It was bright orange.

 _Still…_ “Why isn’t it shooting at us?” He mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter! Take it out!” Axca bellowed. She arrived with another three bombs, shoved one at Romelle. She held it as if it would explode in her hands any second. A fair assumption.

Adam nodded and raised his blaster. If the ship could get closer, they wouldn’t need to waste a bomb.

“Wait!” Matt suddenly screamed. Adam didn’t twitch. “The ship is sending a signal on our channel!” Oh. That was new.

Adam hesitated, mind spinning. This was not the first time their channel had been hacked by enemy forces. He hardly wanted to take the chance. He glanced down at the refugees, huddled screaming against a vulnerable position.

_“I know what I signed up for, sweetheart. This is the only way. Let me go.”_

But he couldn’t stand anymore blood on his hands today. “Patch it through!” He ordered. Matt nodded, tapped a button on his utility belt. Adam’s ear buzzed immediately with the new incoming signal.

“Adam, do _not_ shoot me down,” a familiar voice drawled. Adam’s breath hitched in his throat. “I’m coming to save your skins.”

Romelle snatched his comm. “Shiro! Are you the one in that ship?” She demanded.

 _I would have shot him down,_ Adam realized. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth went dry at the idea. “Did you _steal_ an enemy ship?” Axca echoed, sounding impressed. Adam wished she wouldn’t. Sounding impressed only encouraged him.

“I just said that,” Takashi harrumphed. Adam huffed a surprised laugh, willed his heart to slow down. “The MFE’s are with me too. Give us a minute,” Adam tried to find Griffin and the others, but they must have been flying too high for the binoculars to reach.

“Avriel!” He yelled at the Zachorian gunners. “Don’t fire on the ship coming at us from the West!” Avriel turned to give him an incredulous look. He shouted some orders at his underlings and handed over control of the cannon.

“Why in all the worlds not?!” He demanded when he jogged over to them, hunched over and gasping for breath.

Adam laid a hand on his back, gently pulled him closer so he wasn’t exposed. A piece of shrapnel could kill just as easily as any bomb or bullet.

“Shiro is here,” Romelle explained.

Avriel scowled thunderously. “Who?”

“Our Captain,” Adam clarified. He placed a hand to his thrumming heart, tried to stave off memories of another time, when he’d been the one to orchestrate his husband’s own _death_. The general’s brows pinched with relief.

“Ah. Is he a warrior?”

Of course, because Takashi Shirogane was an idiot show-off, no one had time to answer.

At that moment, one of the oncoming bombers surely caught sight of one of its fellow ships coming in from the wrong side of the battle and started firing.

Of course, rather than try and keep his cover, Adam’s idiot lover decided to fire back. The ships zipped toward each other, head-on, going faster than any Earth ship.

“Kashi!” Adam screamed.

That was when Takashi expelled himself from the ship. Quite literally. One moment, it was on a direct collision course for the other, and then he was tumbling out of the cockpit as they slammed into each other and burst into flames.

Adam watched, too terrified even to scream, his gut clenched so hard he could have vomited, as Takashi plummeted to the ground, sleek and graceful as a seagull in mid-flight. He landed with a thud and rolled to a crouch next to the cannon. 

He was also snapping orders, as if nothing untoward had just occurred while the sky imploded behind him. “Do you have any idea what Pidge would do to me if you got hurt!?” He shouted at Matt, who had stood, mouth-agape, to watch in absolute horror. Takashi cupped Matt’s head and shoved him back into a crouch behind shelter, glaring. “Get _down_!”

“He’s a warrior,” Avriel deduced, awe-struck. He cocked a brow, studied Shiro with something a bit more than friendly or innocent admiration. “ _Very_ nice.”

Adam’s face flushed with equal parts rage and relief. He surged to his feet, glaring at Avriel _the entire time_ , and clutched his boyfriend’s arm.

“Are you crazy? You could have been killed!” He hissed into his ear. Takashi didn’t answer. He took Adam by the shoulders roughly, eyes skimming his form with ill-hidden irritation.

“Am _I_ crazy?” Takashi demanded indignantly. His bang swooped aside as one of the MFE’s swooped past, leaving a ring of flame in their wake. “You’re the one with a death wish! I ordered you to get on _The Atlas_ hours ago!”

His relief switched to rage without warning. “What? And leave all these people behind!?” Takashi rolled his eyes.

“I had a plan!”

“Oh yeah?!” He put his hands on his hips. “What was it called? The sacrificial lamb tactic?!”

“Guys!” Matt shoved his way between them. Adam realized that he and Kashi had nearly been nose to nose. “Can we argue about this later?!”

Takashi leveled a finger beneath Adam’s nose accusingly. “This is not over!” He hissed, marching past him to the cannon. Avriel trailed him eagerly.

“Fine!” Adam yelled at his back. He hoisted his blaster and fired a few angry shots into the air. “Later then!” Takashi waved a dismissive hand.

_“Fine!”_

“Fine!”


End file.
